The morning came, and with it Lord Glenfallen.  I knew not, and indeed I cared not, where he might have been; my thoughts were wholly engrossed by the terrible fears and suspicions which my last night’s conference had suggested to me; he was, as usual, gloomy and abstracted, and I feared in no very fitting mood to hear what I had to say with patience, whether the charges were true or false.  I was, however, determined not to suffer the opportunity to pass, or Lord Glenfallen to leave the room, until, at all hazards, I had unburdened my mind.

“My Lord,” said I, after a long silence, summoning up all my firmness, “my lord, I wish to say a few words to you upon a matter of very great importance, of very deep concernment to you and to me.”  I fixed my eyes upon him to discern, if possible, whether the announcement caused him any uneasiness, but no symptom of any such feeling was perceptible.

“Well, my dear,” said he, “this is, no doubt, a very grave preface, and portends, I have no doubt, something extraordinary—­pray let us have it without more ado.”

He took a chair, and seated himself nearly opposite to me.

“My lord,” said I, “I have seen the person who alarmed me so much a short time since, the blind lady, again, upon last night”; his face, upon which my eyes were fixed, turned pale, he hesitated for a moment, and then said—­

“And did you, pray madam, so totally forget or spurn my express command, as to enter that portion of the house from which your promise, I might say, your oath, excluded you—­answer me that?” he added, fiercely.

“My lord,” said I, “I have neither forgotten your commands, since such they were, nor disobeyed them.  I was, last night, wakened from my sleep, as I lay in my own chamber, and accosted by the person whom I have mentioned—­how she found access to the room I cannot pretend to say.”

“Ha! this must be looked to,” said he, half reflectively; “and pray,” added he, quickly, while in turn he fixed his eyes upon me, “what did this person say, since some comment upon her communication forms, no doubt, the sequel to your preface.”

“Your lordship is not mistaken,” said I, “her statement was so extraordinary that I could not think of withholding it from you; she told me, my lord, that you had a wife living at the time you married me, and that she was that wife.”

Lord Glenfallen became ashy pale, almost livid; he made two or three efforts to clear his voice to speak, but in vain, and turning suddenly from me, he walked to the window; the horror and dismay, which, in the olden time, overwhelmed the woman of Endor, when her spells unexpectedly conjured the dead into her presence, were but types of what I felt, when thus presented with what appeared to be almost unequivocal evidence of the guilt, whose existence I had before so strongly doubted.  There was a silence of some moments, during which it were hard to conjecture whether I or my companion suffered most.  Lord Glenfallen soon recovered his self command; he returned to the table, again sat down and said—­